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smallness begin? The surface of Mars is only one-fourth that of the earth. Moreover, if you allow all the planetoids to be uninhabited, those planets which you acknowledge to be probably uninhabited far outnumber those with regard to which even the most resolute pluralist holds to be inhabited. The majority swells every year; the planetoids are now thirty. The fact of a planet being inhabited, then, is, at any rate, rather the exception than the rule, and therefore must be proved, in each case, by special evidence. Of such evidence, I know not a trace!"

From the planetoids, therefore, we go to the moon. Now, what says Dr. Lardner about her? After telling us that it is "as exempt from an atmosphere (which, be it remembered, is an imperative condition of life) as the utterly exhausted receiver of a good air-pump," he adds, "In fine, the entire geographical character of the moon, thus ascertained by longcontinued and exact telescopic surveys, leads to the conclusion, that no analogy exists between it and the earth which could confer any probability on the conjecture that it fulfils the same purposes in the economy of the universe; and we must infer, that what ever be its uses in the solar system, or in the general purposes of creation, it is not a world inhabited by organized races such as those to which the earth is appropriated."*

Thus, finding that the moon is not possessed of air sufficiently abundant to permit of our gasping, much less of our breathing, we think it high time to decamp, and hurry away to the sun. But unfortunately, long before we get there, we are singed and scorched by its heat,† and obliged to withdraw to the cooler regions of Neptune, who is thirty times further off from the sun than the earth. Nevertheless, here again we meet with insurmountable obstacles; for our steeds soon begin to stiffen with cold, and our hands become so numbed that we can scarcely hold the reins. We are, therefore, obliged to hasten back to the only world suited to our nature, viz., our earth, and there recover

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from the effects of taking a very instructive, but not very agreeable, journey.

Moreover, besides this want of sufficient atmosphere, and this inequality of temperature, we have to consider the gravity of the planets. One instance must suffice: Jupiter, whose bulk is 1331 times greater than the earth's, is in density only a quarter that of the latter. Being also five times the distance that we are from the sun, the idea of persons living there of the same race as ourselves is most preposterous. With these differences between ourselves and Jupiter, what force can be attributed to their resemblances? This is a direct question, and we expect a direct answer; and till that is given, and till the principle which it contains is satisfactorily disposed of, our opponents may argue for ever in vain.

Sir D. Brewster gives his reply to this objection in a way remarkably characteristic of the cause for which he pleads. He evades it by telling us that the immense size of Jupiter "is alone a proof that it must have been made for some grand and useful purpose." Who ever denied this? Surely God has that object in view in every action which he performs. What this object is in the present case, we cannot, with certainty, conjecture. A thousand things may be supposed, and not one of them true. We believe, as we have before said, that they will be employed for man's future benefit, a supposition which Dr. Brewster himself partially approves.

From Jupiter we proceed to the fixed stars. On these Sir D. Brewster remarks, that if they are suns they must be inhabited, for "wherever there is a sun there must be a planetary system, and wherever there is a planetary system there must be life and intelligence." The question, then, which we have to consider is, whether the fixed stars are suns. So little evidence is there for either the affirmative or negative of this point, that it is almost foolish to attempt an answer. Many things have to be proved before we can say that they are. Suppositions must be made without any foundation in fact, and even if we granted their right to be called suns, we should, on account of the absence of any evidence in favour of such a right, attach no practical importance to the deductions which might be made from them. Our opponents have

to prove that they are of the same density, | out the vast circles of the heavens, touching composed of the same materials, have the at all the principal stations, in a vain search same continued brightness as our sun, that after some of our fellow-creatures. Not one planets actually do revolve round them, and was to be seen throughout the mighty cirother such improbabilities. cumference, and all those globes that appear to us so beautiful and bright, are but one dreary solitude-one mighty desert! Oh! what a great and majestic being must he be for whom all this was created? With an intellect capable of examining the most distant point in the sky, and of bringing to light the very bowels of the earth; with physical propensities to enjoy all the beauties of nature, and the loveliness of her ornaments; and, above all, with moral feelings capable of sympathizing with his Maker and God: man is permitted to possess all these enjoyments, and alone is blessed with the benefits which they produce. May we realize this fact more and more, and thus advance in the knowledge and love of our Creator! H. D. L.

Thus, then, the fixed stars supply no argument against us, but the nebula may. Not only, however, must the same things be proved of these as were required to be shown in the case of the stars, but also the fact that they are stars. Modern discoveries all tend to show that they are not, but that they are "vast masses of incoherent or gaseous matter, of immense tensity, diffused in forms more or less irregular, but all of them destitute of any regular system of solid moving bodies; and therefore the improbability of their being inhabited appears to amount to the highest point that can be imagined.* In this manner we have ranged through

+"Plurality of Worlds," pp. 235, 236.

Bistory.

HAS MONACHISM BEEN BENEFICIAL TO EUROPEAN SOCIETY?

NEGATIVE ARTICLE.-I.

THE original principles of Monachism differed in every essential particular from the practice which, in after ages, so disfigured the institution, and we should certainly deeply err, were we to attribute to the founders of the system those sad evils which existed and were the natural results of its action wherever it extended its baneful influence. The changes, which by degrees brought the establishment to its fearfully mischievous ascendency, were almost imperceptible. The change from being mere secluded laymen to becoming members of the clergy, and the throwing off the dominion of the bishops, to acknowledge subjection only to the despotism of the Pope, were early steps to the universal dominion, which the monks sought afterwards to obtain over the deluded people; and having, through the medium of religious superstition, obtained a complete sway over the minds of men, who appear to have been destitute of moral principles to restrain the course of their passions, we find their culminating point to be in a period

of general demoralisation, and public and private misery, when abject ignorance and credulity reigned supreme. But to show the ills with which mankind has been burdened by Monachism, it may be well to give a slight sketch of the rise and progress of the institution. The origin of the monastic orders appears pretty clearly ascertained to have been the necessity which existed, in the first ages of the Gospel, for professed Christians to live apart in deserts and unfrequented places, being driven there by persecution: and this being the lot of some very extraordinary persons, the example of these was followed, even after the primary cause for retirement had ceased. These scattered hermits, St. Anthony, towards the end of the fourth century, gathered into a body, and formed of them a society living together; he also gave them laws for the regulation of their conduct. These institutions soon spread throughout the East and Europe, and were filled with men, who abandoned all human advantages to live in a state of suf

fering and want, and to obtain a more close communion with God. Their fame for sanctity was so great, that in the fifth century the members of the order were admitted into the ranks of the clergy, and the passion amongst private individuals for erecting and endowing monasteries exceeded all bounds. But soon this primitive state of affairs altered. The first who lived in these retreats secluded themselves for the sole object of unrestrained devotion to religion: but now they find themselves endowed with considerable influence in the Christian community, the love of worldly good enters their hearts, and rapidly they fall back from their high reputation. Their discipline now became lax, and the monks were to be found tainted with all the vices of the day. The monastic orders, when admitted into the clerical body, were of course under the jurisdiction of the bishops; but in the seventh century they were exempted, and in return they used all their efforts to advance the power and dignity of the Church of Rome. Avarice and ambition took the place of those higher motives, which had in former days enlisted the sympathies of the votaries, and the monks became the tools of the most extensive schemes of pontifical policy. The holiest contemplations were interrupted by the voice of ambition inviting the recluse to dignity and power, and the seeds of avarice nourished by the prospect of rich preferments. From time to time different orders of monks had been established, each claiming to possess greater sanctity than any preceding, and each in their turn becoming as corrupt as their predecessors. Between these orders the greatest jealousies and hatreds existed: the various orders being combined only in the one object of fostering superstition, and keeping mankind in subjection. To carry out their purpose, they did not scruple to affirm, that it was not only lawful, but praiseworthy, to deceive, and to use the expedient of a lie in order to advance the cause of piety and truth; and hence the pious frauds with which the Church of Rome has been so often reproached. In the eighth century the discipline was still further relaxed, and could not again be restored. Notwithstanding this, the monastic life was held in the highest esteem, and the monks were continually called to the courts of the monarchs of Europe to fill civil offices. They proceeded, accumulating riches and

power, and had succeeded, in union with the Romish Church, in their efforts to plunge mankind to the lowest depth of superstition and degeneracy; and from the writings of Protestants of the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries we gather, that as a body, they were indolent, illiterate, profligate, and vicious epicures, whose only views in life were confined to opulence, idleness, and pleasure. The Reformation, which was caused in a great measure by their vices, at this time checked in some degree their excesses, and rendered them, externally at least, more cautious and circumspect. Having seen the origin, and glanced at the progress of the monastic orders, let us now inquireI. What benefits have accrued to mankind from the system? and

II. What disadvantages have ensued?

I. At their establishment, these orders of men were wholly and sincerely devoted to religion, and were most rigorous in the discipline of their conduct. Living thus, although secluded from the world, their austere piety, and total disinterestedness in quitting all the pleasures of society could not fail to impress on their contemporaries a high sense of the beauty and holiness of religion; and we cannot hesitate to believe, that they were the means of alleviating much human misery: their gates also were thrown open to those who, in days of universal desolation, possessed no other refuge. As time wore on, the essential characteristics of their order changed: learning in great measure usurped the place of religion, and the monasteries became the great receptacles for literature and science: in fact, the monastic institutions seemed as if framed for the special purpose of transmitting the remains of ancient literature, sacred and profane, through a period in which, were it not for this provision, they must have perished. The diversity of rules and practice amongst the different orders was great; yet, in nearly all cases, wherever there was a monastery, there also was a manufacture of books. The only method by which works could be multiplied and preserved, was (anterior to the invention of printing) by manuscript, and the transcribing of such was a favourite occupation of the monks; to them solely are we indebted for the remains of classic literature handed down to our times. In nearly all monasteries there was preserved a chronicle of current events, and

most scrupulously exact were some of these old writers. But in the majority of cases, the events chronicled were those most likely to strike the vulgar mind, and to add to the then prevailing and fast increasing superstition. It is also fair to give them credit for the hospitality which they afforded to wayfarers; and for the fertilization and improvement of the land surrounding their monasteries; in selecting sites for which they never failed to have regard to the quality of the soil. Thus short is the catalogue of benefits: would that the list of evils which have ensued was of no greater length!

II. The disadvantages which have been caused by Monachism may be classed under two heads, viz. the disadvantages arising and inseparable from the monastic system, even as first established; and the disadvantages arising from the abuses which crept into that system.

Assuming then, for argument's sake, that the practice of the system had been in accordance with its proposed principles, let us inquire, Have those principles a right foundation? Total retirement from the world, unless in a very few cases where the spirit has been completely broken by misfortune, is not productive of good to the individual retiring: for, in solitude, he is left entirely to the workings of his own imagination, not having the varied objects, presenting themselves in the every day life in the world, to occupy his attention. So well were the original founders of the monastic orders aware of this, that they strictly enjoined manual labour on their followers, seeing well, that if the tendency of the man be to vice and wickedness, in unemployed solitude would his passions be developed in their most hideous form, the mind having time to brood over the suggestions of an idle imagination. During the quietude of a sequestered life," says Zimmerman, "imagination usurps the throne of reason, and all the feeble faculties of the mind obey her dictates, until her voice becomes despotic." Again he says, "If the mind, as in the solitude of monastic seclusion, fixes its attention on ascetic subjects, and fires the fancy with unnatural legends, the soul, instead of sinking to divine repose, feels a morbid melancholy and discontented torpor, which extinguishes all rational reflection, and engenders the most fantastic visions." And have we not reason to believe,

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that such were too often the favourite contemplations of the monks?

To proceed. The immediate cause of retirement of those living under the monastic system (in its early days) was religious devotion; but that religion, in which they sought to be partakers, teaches charity in its most extended sense. Now, in what manner, I ask, do they exhibit charity, who abandon their fellow-creatures, and neglect the duties owing from man to man, for a life of selfish idleness, and fanaticism? In what way do they turn to profitable use the talents entrusted to their care, to be exerted for the mutual benefit of themselves and their neighbours? If they feel they are endowed with virtue in a high degree, why hide it as a candle under a bushel? Do they retire for the purpose of instructing mankind? Then, I say, their judgment has misled them in the choice of the means to be adopted. To know mankind, which is necessary before attempting to teach, they must live with them to learn that humanity is weak-to understand how to convey their lessons without exasperating those whom they attempt to instruct-and to gain in the daily exercise of unselfishness those charitable feelings without which all they can do is as naught. Again, to comprehend any matter rightly, and to form a proper judgment of its merits, it is necessary to regard it in more than one light. I ask, How can they, who hold no communication with the world, be acquainted with more than their own particular views on the subject? In retirement, they become bigoted in their opinions; and having no opportunity of encountering the notions of others, are without the means of forwarding the discovery of truth, or of exposing the fallacies of error.

This part of the subject, I grant, is open to much discussion and doubt, like all theory. Let us, therefore, proceed to the consideration of the actual ills which have resulted to mankind from Monachism. True religion and avarice are two extremes of an imaginary scale of virtue and vice; but learning is not so utterly at variance with either as the two former are with each other. has been strikingly exemplified in the history of monasticism. Learning paved the way to worldly ambition, and ambition is only one remove from avarice. Avarice has been at once the mainspring and the des

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troyer of the institution. To this hideous sin it chiefly owed its fall. Out of the very bosom of that order which had been most instrumental in corrupting the very corruptions of religion, the immortal Saxon Reformer Luther, guided by the view of this vile sin in its full enormity, rose, and with one blow demolished the growth of centuries. The history of the Reformation is too well known, I hope, to every Englishman to need detail; neither is it necessary, after even the slight sketch I have given of the history of the monastic institution, to give a minute and particular account of the enormities perpetrated by its members. Suffice to name two or three of them; and first that horrible invention, that embodiment of all possible conceptions of persecution-the bare recollection of which suffices to raise in our hearts a perhaps too great detestation for its officers -the willing and zealous Dominicans; need I say, that it is the Inquisition to which I refer. Was it in accordance with the principles of the monks that these men, avowedly pious, be it remembered, should not scruple to use every possible torture, mental and corporal, to extract from unfortunate mankind, who had unsuspiciously fostered the viper in its bosom, the vast treasures so quickly amassed by the Inquisition? No office in the highest realm was too lofty to escape its ambition, no creature so humble as to be beneath the influence of its grasping avarice. Did the Inquisition favour learning? We find learned men-Sanchez, who had the reputation of being the first scholar of his age; Luis de Leon, an eloquent preacher; Mariana, the great historian, summoned to its bar, and forced to submit to its authority. Sismondi, in his "Histoire des François," says, in speaking of the Inquisition," By its influence, the exercise of intellect was forbidden to every one who would have devoted it to religion." Under the blighting

power of this institution, the kingdom of Spain, and the republic of Venice, sank to rise no more. It is to St. Dominic the whole credit of the invention of this vile tribunal is due. I may be spared the enumeration of the crimes, but too well attested, which were committed under its authority, and proceed to enquire to whom is mankind indebted for the incalculable misfortunes incurred in the Crusades. To the Papacy, perhaps it will be replied. But what was the agency which kindled the flame? Hermit forgotten? And when, in the first crusade, nearly 1,300,000 lives had been sacrificed, was it not the monk Bernard, who rose, declaring himself inspired by heaven, and by his eloquence sent forth the whole flower and vigour of Christendom on that fatal expedition?

Is Peter the

Other inventions, to feed the avarice and rapacity of the monks, were the doctrines of purgatory, penance, and indulgences. The mode in which these were used as instruments of extortion is too well known to need comment.

In conclusion, then, after the hasty glance I have taken at the notorious impiety, vicious morals, the open jealousy and hatred existing between the different orders, than which in itself hardly anything could be more mischievous in its moral effects on the minds of mankind, the perversion of truth and fostering of error, the spreading of superstition, and depressing their fellow-creatures to the most abject subserviency to their avaricious designs,

my only astonishment is that two opinions can exist on the question under discussion; and do not hesitate to declare my firm conviction, that of all institutions, of which we have any knowledge, Monachism has been in its effects the most pernicious to the eternal as well as temporal welfare of mankind. VINCAT VERITAS.

Politics.

IS THE BALLOT MORE DESIRABLE THAN OPEN VOTING?

AFFIRMATIVE ARTICLE.-I.

THE question of ballot or no ballot is one derives all its importance from the results simply of convenience and of detail, which that are bound up with it. These results

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